Nature's Reckoning
by Writin'Chica2KDarchangel
Summary: Novel in progress. Four girls have become close friends during their stay in a mental hospital, but what is ahead for them?
1. 1: Ebony- Blood Sisters

CHAPTER ONE: Ebony- Blood Sisters  
I never actually feared hell until I was admitted to the Lakeview Mental Hospital. Every other morning I could count on being woken up by either the skinny gray-haired nurse who reminded me of a cheap mop, or by the screams of a patient having a fit. As soon as the doctors knew of the situation, they'd rush to the scene, and the screaming would stop as fast as it started. Yet that always scared me more.  
Such was the case this morning. The scream was an instant alarm clock, and my eyes snapped open quickly, wondering whom it was this time. Soon I placed the voice as too masculine; it wasn't any of my friends.  
Kirsten Chambers, whom we all refer to as Amber because of her soft blond beauty, blinked a few times and slowly rose up from her bed beside mine. She stretched her long, graceful arms, interlocked her fingers, which always seemed to be painted with the latest polishes, and placed her hands on top of her fluffy light hair. Again she blinked her lovely blue eyes.  
"Whoozat, Ebony?" she asked sleepily. Everyone calls me Ebony basically because I'm black, and it's easier to pronounce than my real name, Tericka Lalique. I used to be offended, but then realized that in this hospital, no one would listen to me.  
"It was too far away to come from the suicides ward. Just go back to sleep."  
"No way." Amber slipped out of bed, long legs poking out from beneath her lace nightgown, along with a slight paunch that had evolved from eight months of lacking her usual physical activity. "I need to get up and dressed before The Mop drags us out."  
She had a point. I crawled out of bed as well and headed to my bureau to find my denim dress.  
The first thing Amber pulled out was an orange sweater and a dark gray skirt. She disproved the myth that models don't know how to dress themselves, she'd walk around the hospital all day looking like she just stepped off the runway.  
Amber had had a successful modeling job before she came here, appearing in several magazine layouts, and was even scheduled to be on the cover of Vogue for a swimsuit special. But that was before her father died in a vehicle accident. I had never met him, but Amber talked about him so much I felt like I truly knew him.  
After the crash, Amber was so depressed she couldn't carry on properly, and everything totally snapped after she hit a photographer on the set of the Vogue shoot. Rather than spend time in jail for assault, she was sent here until she had fully recovered from the trauma of her father's death. I rather felt she was progressing nicely.  
My story also involved a brush with the law, though much more serious. I had appeared in several popular teen movies and was ready to film the pilot for a new sitcom when the trouble started. I began receiving letters and phone calls from this crazy fan. At first he would talk about how beautiful he thought I was, but when I didn't answer him, he became more threatening and filled with rage, and started stalking me. As much as I wanted to run to my parents, I couldn't- we had divorced each other the previous year after I found out they'd been withholding my film earnings.  
Finally I became so desperate I did the only thing that seemed right. Using a gun stolen from the set of a police show, I came face-to-face with my stalker and shot him dead.  
Rather than be arrested for manslaughter, I was declared insane and sent here for analysis. Though some days I think it might've been better if I faced the chair after all.  
Soon we were dressed and made our way to the cafeteria. Most of the other residents of Lakeview were there, and we saw Rose and Violet silently parked at a table. We headed over to join them.  
Haley Felder was known was Violet because she was so shy and delicate. This morning she was nibbling a slice of toast coated with peanut butter. Peanut butter was about the only thing she could stand these days, and the nurses fawned over her more than any of us to make sure she was perfectly healthy. None of us minded. Violet's condition deserved all the fawning it got.  
About eight months ago, she became pregnant by her boyfriend, a popular VJ over at MTV. When he found out about the baby and refused to marry Violet, he simply left her, alone and afraid. She found a shelter for unwed mothers to live in, but never seemed to get along with the other girls.  
The pressure of the scandal became too much on her boyfriend and he committed suicide with a morphine overdose. Violet was crushed and tried to kill herself as well with another girl's sleeping pills. She lived and was sent here to be watched during her pregnancy.  
I couldn't help but feel sorry for Violet every time I looked at her. She had a harder time than any of us getting here, and preparing to be a mother on top if it…  
Anastasia Rosenauer was simply called Rose by the whole world, starting with her agent, who would rave about her and always call her the next Bette Midler. I suppose it wasn't too bad a comparison, she did sing beautifully. She was easily the most famous out of us four, and she was here first.  
Rose had lived in a small Jewish neighborhood in Albany with her kindly grandparents, and had lived that way since she was five. She'd been told that her parents died when she was younger, but the truth was far worse: in reality, they were wanted in connection with a major bank robbery and were caught only recently after twelve years on the lam.  
Rose turned absolutely devastated at this news. She didn't know who to be maddest at- her parents of running out on her, her grandparents for lying, or the whole entertainment community for rubbing their noses in the scandal afterwards and never leaving her alone about it.  
Finally, the pressure became too much for her and she attempted suicide backstage with a razor after a disastrous Grammy performance. She survived and was sent here.  
That was we, the four girls, once famous in one way or another, disappointed in life and love in one way or another, survivors in one way or another, and ultimately crazy in one way or another. Often I'd wonder aloud if we weren't all better off out on the street or in prison- especially me. I was the first patient in eight years who'd killed someone to get into the hospital.  
Amber would quench my wondering with horrific tales she'd heard about women's prisons on the news- exploitation, prostitution, and eventual beatings and deaths that were supposedly worse than in men's prisons. Her tales were meant to educate, but by the end of each lecture, poor little Violet would look like she was ready to throw up, and we'd have to chew Amber out. She'd shrug and say, "Well, it's the truth."  
Well, maybe some truths are better left unsaid. Rose could tell you a thing or two about that.  
Whatever poet said that truth is beauty and beauty is truth must not have known anyone like us. No matter what angle you look it through, truth is an ugly sin that never deserves to see the light of day, the kind of ugliness that needs to be kicked in a deep hole and forgotten about. I remember a male patient asking me how such a sweet young thing like me could've ended up here.  
"I killed my stalker," I said simply. "And you?"  
He simply gave me a frightened look and never tried to speak to me again.  
Right now, Amber plucked a wet Wheatie out of Rose's cereal bowl and popped it into her mouth. "Yuck. Wet cardboard," she said.  
"That's what you get for stealing my breakfast." Rose brought the bowl to her lips and slurped down the rest of the milk.  
"You never minded it before," Violet said quietly. "Are you okay?"  
Rose set the bowl down. "That gossip Skylar," she said, "she said the head doctors want to meet with us today."  
None of us liked Skylar Lavista very much. She was only a student when she came here a few months back, who had attempted a copycat school shooting but was fortunately caught before anyone could get hurt. Violet, being the youngest, had sensed a kindred spirit and tried to make friends with her, but Skylar had kicked her in the stomach, nearly causing a miscarriage. Ever since she got in trouble for that incident, she had tried to make our lives even more miserable any way she could.  
"Do you think she'd make up something like that?" I asked.  
"She's just getting our hopes up that we'll get out here soon and out of her life," Amber said.  
"Of course we're getting out of here," said Violet, shy yet ever the optimistic. "They can't keep us in a loony bin forever. We'll be eighteen soon and be able to decide for ourselves." She looked down at her stomach and patted it thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want my son being born here." She had known for about two months that it was going to be a boy.  
"Just the same, Skylar shouldn't be making a joke about it," I said.  
Speak of the devil. Skylar walked past our table just then. Her straight-as-a-ruler black hair went down to her knees, and her bright blue eyes were hidden by cheap eyeliner, as usual.  
"Hmph, if it isn't The Four Crazyteers," she sneered. "Cut yourself shaving recently, Anastasia?" Her heavily frosted lips curled.  
Rose's eyes glared with hatred, and she stood up quickly. I had to leap in front of her to stop any World War III.  
"Rose, stop it! Do you want the doctors in here?" I hissed in her ear.  
They glared at each other briefly, and Skylar walked off. Rose waited until she was out of sight, then sat back down.  
"The sooner we're farther away from that dimwit, the better," she growled. "She better have been telling the truth this time."  
Truth, ah yes, that ugly truth. If the doctors really did want to see us, that would mean we would be out soon. Eight months in this hospital was long enough.  
But would our close friendships and improving lives be any different if we were released?  
The truth can be frightening.  
  
(To be continued...) 


	2. 2: Violet- The Breaking Point

CHAPTER TWO: Violet- The Breaking Point  
After the episode with Rose and Skylar, I quickly went back to my room. The sight of that girl had made me lose my appetite.  
I had the strangest sense that my baby had taken a dislike to that Skylar as well. Every time she was near, I would feel rapid movement inside my stomach, as if my child wanted to escape and attack that hateful girl for what she had done to us.  
I hadn't hated anyone before in my life. Now in the course of eight months, I had grown to hate two: Skylar Lavista, and the late, not-so-great Marcus Medved.  
What a bastard. I should've known there was someone hiding underneath that goody-goody MTV visage. But how was I to know he wouldn't want to marry me if I was already pregnant? How was I to know he was taking money from the station and using it on the morphine that would eventually kill him? And how was I to know he only dated me to up his publicity?  
The same way I found out everything else- too late, and the hard way.  
I looked down at my stomach and patted it lightly again. "David Patrick Felder," I said quietly. I'd decided on the name barely days after I found out it was going to be a boy. The Patrick was for my normally beloved father- who, once he'd find out I was pregnant, would no doubt spew every curse in the Bible before literally throwing the Good Book at me as I'd run out the door in fear.  
He knew I was in the hospital for my suicide attempt and the trauma concerning Marcus' death, but he'd never heard my being pregnant. I was his little girl and was supposed to stay that way forever.  
He didn't even know I'd been sleeping with Marcus. That was how much I had to lie to him.  
I was really was a shrinking violet, hiding in the darkness to hide my delicateness and frailty, possibly beautiful, but not wanting anyone to notice me for fear of being hurt.  
Check that. Being hurt worse.  
I wasn't the only one that had gotten hurt, though. Roses wilt, ebony rots, and amber cracks.  
How many more tears must we cry? How many more hardships must we endure? How many more times must we be disappointed in life and love before we can go out into the world again? How long would it be before we were all accepted as normal human beings again?  
I had a great doubt in my mind that nobody would ever accept Ebony again. After all, she had committed murder- possibly excusable in her situation- but a crime nonetheless.  
Well, in a manner of speaking, everyone in this hospital committed a crime to be here- the crime of being different, of not fitting in to what society defines as normal, so we were locked away, swept under the carpet and forgotten about, left to die in the agony of our madness.  
"They have to let me out of here," I whispered fiercely- maybe not so much to myself as to my son. "They have to."  
I felt a deep movement within my womb, as if he agreed with me.  
Suddenly a dark fear flashed across my brain. If I wasn't let out of here in time, would I have to give away my baby?  
I couldn't. I just couldn't.  
I'd rather die.  
Two burning tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and slowly dripped down to soak into the collar of my maternity dress.  
Carefully I laid down on the bed, and let the tears quietly leak out of me, crying about the deepest fear I would possibly ever know. I placed a hand on my stomach to shield my son from the cruel, unforgiving world.  



	3. 3: Amber- Falling To Pieces

CHAPTER THREE: Amber- Falling To Pieces  
Considering that wheatie in Rose's bowl- and, okay, the Skylar incident- I was left without an appetite. I guessed that was a blessing, I'd been gaining weight for the first time since I was fourteen. Isn't it weird I only noticed this morning? But I hadn't thought about my looks in eight months. Number nine hundred and ninety-nine on my list of things to worry about.  
I went back to my room- Ebony and Rose stayed to finish eating- and the first thing I did was sit down and pull out my scrapbook.  
Mama had kept a scrapbook of every ad and layout I was in, marking the article and date. It wasn't out of conceit- she was just proud of me. Fat chance now, Mama, fat chance.  
The first clipping was from a ym issue when I was fifteen. My hair was roped into tendrils, I had a gorgeous dark red lipstain, and I wore a shiny blue bikini with matching sandals and a sportjacket. Every model had a sportjacket with their swimsuits after that, I remembered. The painful thing about that clipping was that Daddy had written one of his usual witty comments underneath; "Venus at play," this one said.  
Daddy, without a doubt, was the smartest, kindest, and handsomest man I had ever known. Curse the fates that had made him go away so soon. Why couldn't it have been Tony instead?  
I shook my head. A few pages on, however, had a clipping of Tony and I at the VH1 Fashion Awards. The printed caption was "Rising model Kirsten Chambers and date Tony Cheplin were the first in line." The clipping next to it was I giggling and accepting my Best Newcomer award from Donatella Versace. "'I gotta owe it all to that little black sportcoat,' Chambers joked in her acceptance speech" was typewritten underneath. And underneath both of them was the dried, pressed tulip Tony had given me after the show- my first flower from him. Times were happier then.  
After the breakup, my first impulse was to rip that flower out and toss it in the compost heap. But I never did. Maybe I just wanted a reminder of those happier times.  
I kept flipping through the book. Posing for jewelry in Seventeen, a prom dress special, lipstick ads, more swimsuits, meeting Jennifer Lopez and Tyra Banks at a runway, many pictures to document my two and half years of being regarded as one of the most beautiful girls in the world. What did I have to show for it now?  
The last picture was of me giving the eulogy at Daddy's funeral. The pages following that clipping were blank.  
Blank pages, what a metaphor for the rest of my life, with my luck. Nothing but a blank future lay ahead for me, I would never be accepted into society again. I'd had my fifteen minutes of fame, now it was time for me to fade into the background. I closed the scrapbook and quietly put it away, a closed chapter in my life.  
I lay back down in bed, only wanting to sleep now. Maybe if I were lucky, I wouldn't dream.  
Last night I did dream, and while I didn't wake up screaming like I used to- why risk the doctors coming in here? - it was the same horrible dream that had been torturing me for the past eight months.  
Daddy had been driving the van, and I'd been in the passenger seat next to him- in the dream, not in real life- and I had my seatbelt on, but I was transparent like a ghost, not being able to be seen, a silent witness to my father's last moments.  
Then that hated Puget Sound comes barreling down the highway from the wrong direction, driven by someone who would later on get a suspended license for five years, eight years in jail, and a broken arm.  
Daddy sees the truck and immediately tries to swerve out of the way, a bad decision considering the driver was swerving too. I leap out of my seat to grab the steering wheel to pull Daddy over to the side, so he'd be okay- but it's no use. My hands go right through the wheel, just like a ghost.  
Daddy and the truck driver take notice of one another, but it's too late. They crash head on, and I'm only left screaming in my seat.  
After that I've always woken up, the tears drying on my face, and left to deal with the memory.  
Not any of the other girls had to deal with what I did. None of them.  
  
(To be continued...) 


	4. 4: Rose- What Next

CHAPTER FOUR: Rose- What Next  
Ebony stayed in the cafeteria with me to finish breakfast. What a blessing. I really needed someone to talk to. As much as it wasn't wanted, though, the conversation steered toward Skylar and how we hated her. We were all ready to think that she never got along with anybody else.  
"She's almost like a princess," Amber had said the first day Skylar was here.  
"A princess? That crazy kid?" I'd replied.  
"Well, she really has that icy beauty to her," Amber had said back.  
That might have been true, but even if a person is beautiful on the outside, it changes a lot when they're ugly inside. And poor Violet was the first to find out- the hard way.  
I remember visiting her in the emergency room after she got kicked- I was the oldest, so Violet agreed to let me be her breathing coach during the delivery. Her poor, four-months-pregnant body pitifully poked up from under the blanket, and her weepy green eyes looked like they would waterfall any second. She looked like she was dying…  
Fortunately, she and the baby would be okay, but Violet retreated further into her shell. She wouldn't talk to anyone except the doctors and us, and only to them if it was really necessary.  
"She better have been telling the truth," I muttered again, looking down at my arms and legs. The scars had healed for the most part, but I knew they would always be there, just another cold reminder of my bitter, lie-filled past.  
Suddenly I remembered that this was the first time in a month and a half that actually looked at my cuts- a new record, I thought sarcastically. And the Guinness honor goes to-  
I shook my head. Forget about it. No honors would ever go to me again, no prizes, no awards, not even a stinkin' round of applause. I was washed up and finished, and only a few weeks short of eighteen.  
How fitting, I thought, that I've suffered the fate that happens to most stars sooner or later. And were there any of them that got back up from the pit? I tried to remember, but my brain came up blank.  
Ebony dropped her voice to a low, earnest tone, and said, "Frankly, I don't care what happens to the rest of us, I just want Violet out of here before she goes into labor. She deserves to be out more than any of us."  
I nodded. Violet was the only one of us four who hadn't experienced a breakdown since entering Lakewood, if you didn't count the Skylar incident. Amber would wake up screaming when she had the nightmare about her father's death- she'd told us about it, and it was frightening indeed. Ebony would rage at any patient that appeared to be following her- a flashback to her stalker. And I'd cry like a baby after my grandparents left, having to be given a sedative every time, and an appointment with one of the BS therapists.  
"Your crying is out of loneliness-" gee, tell me something I don't know- "and a regression to your younger days. An outpouring of emotion would result in your family paying attention to you, and you've stuck with it." Well, duh. I remember crying a lot after my parents "died," and every time a family holiday rolled around, I'd be sad that I was on Earth enjoying life, while my parents were supposedly stone cold dead in the ground somewhere in Maine.  
A bank robbery. Of all the bloody things. So many questions were left unanswered. What was the money for? Whose idea was it? Did one of them actually not want to do it? Why couldn't they take me with them? Where did the money go? What would happen to them now?  
After the initial capture and the entire media buzz surrounding it, I hadn't heard about my parents since. My grandparents never mentioned the case on their visits. Just as well.  
But my ordeal seemed like a picnic compared to everyone else's agony. Nobody should've paid attention to me when I was suffering and bleeding backstage. I didn't need help. I didn't deserve it. Lock me up, throw away the key, and let me bleed…  
Interrupting our thoughts, Dr. Engle, an older black psychologist who worked with Ebony, entered the cafeteria and headed toward our table. She looked up at him with a sort of dread.  
"Miss Lalique?" Dr. Engle adjusted his glasses as he spoke. "As soon as you're finished breakfast, could you please come to my office? It will only take a few minutes." Before we could say anything, he turned around and left.  
I put down my glass and looked Ebony in the face.  
"Wow," I said. "Goodbye, Ebony."  
She looked at me, face full of fear. "You really think this is it?" she asked.  
"Have you ever seen Dr. Engle look so official?" I sighed and prevented oncoming tears. "Eb, the only other time I've had a premonition was when I first came here. I knew that when I got out- if I ever got out- I'd never see my grandparents again or live a normal life again. All the signs pointed to it. And now-" A pause to catch my breath- "I know this is your chance. That guy you shot, that was a freak occurrence, a result of stress, I doubt it'd ever happen again." Jeez, I was starting to sound like that BS therapist. A Jewish teen channeling Sigmeund Freud.  
But this was actually making sense. Ebony's life had pretty much been normal until that guy started stalking her, and she snapped. Given her situation, I'd most likely do the same thing. I'm not saying it's right to take another person's life, but her actions were most likely justified. Like I said, one-time occurrence, it'd never happen again.  
Ebony swallowed the last of her orange juice and crammed her last piece of toast in her mouth, quickly wiping the buttery crumbs away from her face. She chewed noisily as usual, then swallowed.  
"I'm ready," she said, then quickly coughed and pounded on her chest. "Food went down the wrong way," she muttered.  
"Just stay calm like you normally do," I offered.  
She scoffed, "What's normal?" and headed out of the cafeteria.  
Hmm. Ebony had a good point there. Just what was normal?  
Oh, well. Once she was out of here, she would be fully accepted again. One down, three to go.  
This was amazing. Skylar had actually told the truth for once. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and ran off to tell Amber and Violet the good news.  
  
(To be continued...) 


	5. 5: Ebony- Starting Over

CHAPTER FIVE: Ebony- Starting Over  
I read plenty of prison novels taking place inside the criminal's mind, and there's always a scene that goes through his or hers- usually his- thoughts as they're facing the electric chair, hearing the verdict, going to meet the head prison committee, and the old feelings of dread and wonder passing through their minds.  
Now I knew how they felt.  
Dr. Engle had been working with me since my second day in the hospital, helping sort through my anxiety over the shooting and the issues I still had with my family. The latter issue had first been brought up when we wondered why no one ever came to visit me, besides Rose. He'd heard the news of the nasty court settlements over my earnings, but he still didn't understand why I resented my parents so much.  
The dam broke in my relationship with my family after visiting day, when no one came to see me. The only form of communication from my parents was a cold letter in my mother's writing, simply stating, "You have only yourself to blame." No signature, no special design in the stationery, just those six words that would seal the hell's gate. Except for my few friends, I had no one else in the world.  
At least I was lucky to have Dr. Engle to talk to when times were low, and to gently reprimand me every time I snapped at another patient. And at least he was better than Rose's therapist, who I heard made Freud look like an even bigger genius by comparison. Count my lucky stars.  
Soon I was at his office door; "Dr. Jacob Engle," it read. I didn't even have to knock, my silhouette must've been seen from the other side. I heard Engle say, "Come in, Tericka."  
This was it. These would be the moments that would determine my future as a human being. I pushed open the door and let myself in.  
Dr. Engle was sitting behind a desk with two other doctors, a man and a woman I vaguely recognized. They all looked so stern, so official.  
Gulp.  
Oh, well, I couldn't run off now, or that would certainly ruin my chances of release. I simply closed the door and sat down in the small chair in front of them. I crossed my legs at the ankles, sat up straight, and smiled. I felt like I was at an audition.  
But this was the most important audition of my life.  
"Good morning, Miss Lalique," said the unfamiliar male doctor. "I trust you're feeling well today?" I nodded like the idiot I am. What did they think I was going to say? Hell no, I feel like I'm going to puke on your shoes any minute, now get me outta here? "Do you know why you've been called in here?" he asked.  
I raised an eyebrow and shook my head in fake stupidity. That's it, Tericka, you're an actress, dive into the role! "I don't think so…" I said. Ooh, I deserved an Oscar for this one.  
"Well, I'm sure it's something you'll be glad to hear." The female shuffled a few papers on the desk. "You've been in Lakeview for about eight months now since your…incident," she hesitated, "has it been any help, you feel?"  
Dag, the big interrogation. I shrugged before answering, "I guess so, I mean, Dr. Engle's really good to talk to, and I have very close friends here."  
"Yes, that's something we've noticed," Dr. Engle said. "Since you first had contact with Anastasia Rosenauer, you've been progressing better than we expected. Very calm."  
Gee, with the exception of the stress over my family and the stalker, I always thought of myself as a calm person. But not wanting to disagree and risk blowing my chances, I merely nodded.  
He continued, "And another thing taken into consideration has to do with Haley Felder." He put down the paper he had and gave me an honest-to-God smile. "You have been the most caring and human patient I've had contact with."  
I could feel my caramel skin turning maroon with blush and my inner temperature rising to a million degrees. Nobody had ever called me caring and humane in my whole life. Did he really mean it?  
The woman said, "We trust that you're in a good position to work with people. That's why we've put in a good word for you at the children's hospital as part of the work-release program."  
Isn't it amazing how two sentences can give a person whole new levels of joy and hope? No more confining walls, no more contact with fearsome strangers, no more resentment at the world.  
She continued, "It's mostly work in the activity center, reading to children and such. You'll be given a minimum wage salary and housing in a one-room apartment."  
"Thank you." Thank you? Christ, that was a tenth- a millionth of what I really wanted to say. But that was all that would come out.  
Engle smiled again. "We knew you'd be happy with the outcome. You may go back to your room, Miss Lalique."  
I nodded one more time, then simply got up and left. I had to go pack my things, and tell the others the good news.  
  
(To be continued...)  



	6. 6: Violet- Don't Believe A Word

CHAPTER SIX: Violet- Don't Believe A Word  
I had barely just woken up from a dream when I heard the running in the hallway. It was as vaguely real as dreams could get. I was eleven years old again, and jumping rope in front of my house with June and Olive, who would move away soon after. Daddy came to the door to call me in for dinner, and I ran into the house, kicking up rust-colored leaves around me…  
But that was innocence, and innocence was six years ago. Six years ago was history, and history was long gone.  
I sighed, trying to hold on to the memory, but it slipped away like dreams usually do. A pair of high heels came clicking down the hallway. Who did I know that wore high heels all the time?  
Rose poked her head in the doorway, long dark hair frilling about. "Hey, Vi, you okay?" she asked.  
I sat up as carefully as my stomach permitted me. "I guess. What're you so happy about?  
She stepped into the room with her trademark clicks and sat down beside my bed. What a smile on those rose-colored lips. "Turns out Skylar-"  
I shuddered. "If I never hear that name again, it'll be too soon for me."  
"No, listen to me." Rose put a hand on my shoulder. "It turns out Skylar wasn't kidding about the doctors. Engle asked to talk to Ebony a few minutes ago. I've got a good feeling about this one."  
As much as I wanted to trust Rose- she was one of my few friends in the world now- I was never one to trust hunches or premonitions or whatever you call them.  
For a long time, I could never trust anybody at all.  
The first time I realized this was at my mother's grave at the tender age of nine. After battling melanoma for eight months, she had lost and was now taking the "long dirt nap," as my yucky cousin Victor insisted on calling it the whole week before.  
After all the dirt was placed on top of the grave, I began sobbing loudly. The only thing Father did to comfort me was put a hand on my shoulder and say, "It's all right, Haley honey. Mom's not hurting anymore. She's happy."  
That I couldn't believe. Who would be happy dying, unless they were morbid suicidals? And I knew Mom was still hurting- watching her go through chemotherapy had made her thin, tired, and frail. I'd be running back and forth to get her water when she was throwing up for the last five weeks.  
We never had one of those mother-daughter good-byes you see in the movies. She just went in her sleep, and when I woke up the next morning to see Father beside my bed, I knew it was all over.  
I just didn't believe she was happy.  
The second major time of living through lies was the worst of my life, when Marcus and I were first going out. "This'll be the happiest you'll ever be, Haley," he'd say. "When you're out of school, we can get married and you'll move in with me. I'll have lots of money by then, absolutely lots! You'll never have to want for anything again. Everything'll be just perfect. Trust me."  
When I did get out of school, that's when the trouble started. First, I had to find out I was pregnant. Right event, wrong time. I hate hearing the phrase "unwanted pregnancy," because I did want a baby, I really did. It just came unexpectedly, in which case I call David my "surprise baby."  
The look on Marcus' face when I told him I was pregnant was one not to forget. It was one of intense dread, like the realization that someone found out your deepest secret.  
Which, in a sense, was very true.  
"Girl," he'd said, sitting down, "run that by me again."  
"I told you, Marcus, I'm pregnant." I looked down at my stomach and out my hands on it. "Our baby's in here." Our baby. Boy, would that be the last time I said that.  
He stood up straight quickly when he realized what I was saying. He half-shouted at me, "You gotta be crazy, girl!" He never called me Haley during those last months, it was always 'girl.' "We can't have a baby! What would we -do? Have you thought about that?"  
The silence between us for a few seconds was so intense, it was like he was daring me to answer him. It was then I said, "Well…we could get married."  
Again that look of dread. "We can't get married! How many brain cells have you lost already, girl?"  
He was getting ridiculous. I said in a hard-yet-sensible tone of voice, "You promised as soon as I was out school and you had enough money we could get married. You've been making more than almost everybody else at the station…so I don't see why should be so angry."  
All Marcus did was shake his head and point directly at my face. "There's no way you're having that baby now. Get an abortion, and I'll pay for it myself. There'll be plenty of time to talk about kids later."  
Suddenly it was like Marcus wasn't himself at all, like he had turned into this heinous ice creature. I couldn't believe what he had become. I had already grown so attached to this young life inside of me, getting rid of it now would be the end of my world. I shook my head back at him, "No."  
"Well then…" He opened his living room door and pointed out- "get the hell outta here. I never wanna see you again."  
I didn't have to think twice about my options. If he didn't want to be a real father to his child, then I didn't need him. I shoved him aside on my way out…and I'm pretty sure I called him a nasty name too, though I wouldn't want to remember.  
After I left the house, though, the first thing I did was sit down on the sidewalk and cry. They were tears of so many emotions; relief of escape from the past, and a fear of the future.  
Getting back into present-day reality, I shook my head. The fewer times I remembered those incidents, the better. But they made such good points…optimist though I tried to be, I really had a hard time trusting anybody. I wondered if I ever would again.  
"How did Dr. Engle look when he came to see her?" I asked Rose.  
She shrugged. "Pretty much the same, serious as usual."  
"Well…" I sighed, "if she's getting out, then, fine, good luck." I rolled back onto my side and wanted to go back to sleep, but she shook me on the shoulder.  
"C'mon, Vi, aren't you happy for her?"  
"I am, Rose, really I am. I just…" I was getting ready to cry again when I heard more footsteps coming to the door. Rose and I looked up and saw her therapist- the man she affectionately referred to as "Mr. BS"- Alma, the redheaded nurse who would usually do my checkups, and Dr. Szilagyi, the head doctor at Lakeview.  
"Good morning, girls," Alma said, cheery as usual- she was one of the few workers at Lakeview I could stand. "How are we?"  
Rose stumbled like she usually would in the presence of her therapist. "Oh…we're fine. Really we are. Why?"  
Szilagyi said, "We'd like to talk to you young ladies for a few minutes, if that's possible. I'm sure you'll like what we have to hear…that and there's a few matters of importance to clear up."  
Oh my God. My brain was racing like a tornado. Did he mean what I thought he meant? I shuffled out of bed much as I could, and Alma came over to finish help getting me on my feet.  
"Sure, we can go right now," I said. "Stace?"  
She blushed like the roses that gave her fame. "Yes, I'm free." She must've been having another one of her premonitions.  
What was left of my dying optimism roused up inside me with a yes, Yes, YES! I gripped onto Rose's hand to give her comfort, and we followed the doctors down the hall to face our destiny.  
  
(To be continued...) 


End file.
